Love Hurts
by musicae4840
Summary: All her life, she had sworn that she would hunt him. And then he saved her when no one else could. Things don't change that much, do they?
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: Own Heroes, I do not.**

* * *

"_I'm sorry, Claire. But this is really for your own good." Nathan's face was unreadable; he really believed this was for the best. The six men beside him, including that despicable man Danko, all had their tranquilizer guns aimed directly at her._

"_Dad," she gasped. "No, how could you do this to me? You're –" She was unable to finish her sentence as something hit her chest. A slight tingling spread throughout her body, and everything went black._

* * *

Claire awoke, lying on a table, with straps across her arms, legs, and upper body. She knew where she must be, and tried to find a weakness in the restraints, even though she knew the attempts were futile.

_Wow, they must really not want me to get out._

An IV was to her left, dripping liquid into a tube, which fed it into her bloodstream via her arm. She supposed this was to disable her ability, not that it would help here. There was no way she could fit through the small window to her right. The door was most likely reinforced steel, and probably operated on a mechanical lock, only designated to open when someone with clearance unlocked it.

After a bit of observation, she practically had the room memorized. Her mind wandered to her biological father, and how he had betrayed her. She had asked for his help, and he had come with six men in tow. He had captured her. He had imprisoned her. He had betrayed his own kind.

Claire's mind continued along that path for a while; she was jolted out of her reverie by none other than Danko. His sharp, piercing eyes met hers, and he grinned sadistically. A chair was sitting in the corner of the room, and he pulled it up next to her "bed". He produced a file and silently looked through it.

"So…" he said. "You're the invincible one. The one who can heal any wound, except a blow that cuts your brain off from your body. The one who Nathan protected."

He paused, obviously waiting for an answer. When none came, he continued. "You know, Sylar has an ability a lot like yours. I can't help but wonder what you know about him?"

Claire snorted. He expected her to know something useful about Sylar? "Believe me, if I knew something that would help you get that psychopath, I would tell you."

Danko looked at her with a look on his face that said _of course you would_. "Okay then. Rebel. What do you know about him." It was a statement, not a question.

"Nothing," Claire said truthfully.

"Do we need to, ah, _persuade_ you to talk?"

She looked away, towards the blank wall to her left. He chuckled quietly.

"Very well then, Miss Bennet." He produced a knife. "I guess it's time you learned that you are no longer in control."

He twisted his wrist, and Claire felt the blade tear through her right arm. Wet, hot blood spilled out of the wound, and for the first time in a long time, Claire felt pain. It had been so long since she had felt pain, that it was overwhelming. Her vision blurred, and she almost wanted to scream. Danko pulled the knife away, and her crimson blood splashed on the floor. She twisted her head, looking at her arm, and found that it wasn't healing. The IV was preventing that.

"Do you need more… _persuasion_?" The last word dripped out like poison.

Claire shook her head frantically. "I really don't know anything about Rebel!" she gasped.

"Hmm."

He started to say something more but was cut off by a familiar voice, a voice she had grown up with. "Danko? Where are you?" It came from the hallway. Claire took in a breath to scream, but was stopped by the sight of the blade flashing in Danko's hand.

"I'm in here, Noah," Danko called back. "I'll be out in a second."

"Danko, we have an intruder."

He was out of the chair in an instant. The cell door opened, and Claire caught a glimpse of her father as he walked down the hallway, away from her. She was left lying there, alone in her boring cell, bleeding. The door closed.

A high pitched, shrieking alarm went off, and the light in her cell turned off. Through the diminutive window, she could see that the lights in the other cells probably holding other prisoners were also shut off. The light in the hallway stayed on however.

Yelling was coming from down the hall; Claire could hear it. Someone was shouting for a lockdown. Suddenly there was gunfire. It was cut off by a few screams. Apparently, the guards for this hallway had been taken down.

Her door opened with a hiss and a soft mechanical creak. A tall man stood in the threshold, outlined by the light from the hallway. He was dressed in black, with a cap pulled over his eyes.

"Hello, Claire."

She was speechless and terrified. That voice had tormented her for over a year; had nearly killed her more than once.

He strode over to where she was restrained and ripped the IV from her arm. She felt the injury Danko had inflicted heal moments later. The cuffs, which bound her to the table, snapped open, and she lifted herself off the table, setting her feet on the floor and standing up straight.

"Follow me," Sylar said, and left the cell without even waiting to see if she was following.

She obeyed, and trailed behind him silently. He opened the elevator, and she stepped into it behind him. The button for the ground floor was lit up. The doors closed, and soon enough they opened again. Sylar stalked purposefully out of the elevator and Claire followed him.

To the side, there were two guards who had obviously been electrocuted. Claire could hear more people yelling up ahead, and one voice stood out in particular. Her dad's.

"Secure the area!" he was yelling. "Nobody gets in or out! This is Sylar we're dealing with, and we don't know what he wants."

"Stay behind me," Sylar hissed. "Don't do anything stupid."

She drifted closer to him, and they turned a corner. Gunfire erupted immediately. Sylar waved a hand and deflected most of the bullets into the nearby walls. Claire ducked down behind him. A couple of grunts told her Sylar had taken down at least two of them. Electricity shot out of his hands, and three more guards went down. Only her father was left.

Sylar grinned at Noah. "Hello there, Noah. Still can't stop me, can you?"

"Sylar. Just what could you possibly want here?"

"Oh don't worry about it, Noah. I've already found her."

Noah's face became confused for a split second, before he covered it up with a mask of contempt. "And whom is that?"

"You didn't know she was here, did you, Noah?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Noah said, directing his gun at Sylar's head.

"Exactly." Sylar smirked. He twitched two fingers, and Claire's father was sent flying against the near wall. She gasped, and darted forward to him.

"Don't worry, I didn't kill him."

Claire checked his pulse, only to find that Sylar was speaking the truth.

"We have to go," Sylar said firmly. "Reinforcements are on the way."

He led Claire through a couple more hallways, and out a door into an alleyway. A car was waiting. She supposed this must have been how he got here. Sylar walked around to the driver's side and sat down as Claire sat in the passengers seat.

They both fell into silence as Sylar pulled the car out of the alleyway and drove down a main road. First chance he got, he pulled onto the freeway going north, towards New York.

The car ride passed slowly and silently until night fell, and Claire began to feel tired. Her ability may not allow her to get hurt, but it didn't stop her from feeling fatigued. She had no idea where she was, and her head was tipped against the window as she began to fall asleep.

* * *

Sylar was beginning to feel exhausted. The consequences of his efforts today were setting in, and either he need to pull into a motel, or he was going to fall asleep at the wheel. He saw a cheap motel off to the right, and pulled in. There were a total of about five cars there, including him. Most were probably the staff.

He walked into the lobby, and upon seeing him, the girl at the check-in desk straightened up and smiled.

"Welcome to Riverside Motel!" she said cheerfully. Sylar handed her some cash.

"I need one room."

"Of course sir. Room number 6." She handed him a key, and he nodded his thanks, before leaving the lobby.

He parked the car near room number 6 and brought Claire inside. Without much difficulty, he set her on one of the two beds, and laid down on the other. Within minutes, he was asleep.

* * *

**(A/N BWAHAHA. First chapter is completed. Wow. That actually wasn't bad for my first Heroes fic. So… Read and review. Tell me how amazing it was. Constructive criticism always helps.**

**So, halfway through this chapter, I realized that I was using the words wound, inflicted, and I was describing people talking as "a voice from [insert place here]" way too much. Took me a while to fix that. And then I'm trying to fix my habit of moving the story along fast... Otherwise I'm gonna get to the end before I hardly begin!!**

**So, in this story, Sylar isn't working with Danko, he can't shape shift, and Nathan is still the boss of the operation. Just to clear that up. And Daphne may or may not be dead, I don't know yet. I seem to like to mix the time lines up. So… yeah. But I might work the shape shifter (James Martin) in.**

**Thank you for reading, please review… please… read more once I come out with the next chapter… review more.... yeah. Okay. I'm done here. BYE.)**


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: Nope. Don't own Heroes. Yet…**

* * *

Claire adjusted herself into a more comfortable position on the cheap mattress. Soon, she gave up on trying to go back to sleep, and sat up with a sigh. Looking around, she realized her unlikely rescuer was nowhere to be found.

She stepped out of bed, and began to stretch. It had been a while since she had moved; her muscles were stiff. A creak and a soft thud drew her attention to the door.

Sylar entered, holding one cup of coffee, and a nondescript grocery bag. He took a sip from the coffee, and somehow managed to throw her the bag without seeming to notice her. She took a look inside, and found it held a couple of shirts and a pair of jeans. Hopefully, they would fit her.

She entered the bathroom, and quickly changed out of her orange jumpsuit into a light pink T-shirt, size medium, and the jeans. They fit her almost perfectly.

When she re-entered the bedroom, Sylar was standing between the window and the bed. His back was to her, and she sat on the bed closest to her, farthest from him.

A heavy silence filled the room, and she longed to fill it. And she would have, had it been anyone else. But this was Sylar.

Minutes passed, and Claire cleared her throat, attempting to convey the message that she was done changing. No response.

She tipped backwards, lying on the bed, staring up at the ceiling for what seemed like hours.

"We're leaving now," Sylar said. Claire jumped, startled at the sound of his voice.

"What?" she asked, having been not paying attention.

He ignored her, and instead opened the door, and got in the dark blue Honda. She slid into the passenger seat, sitting close to the door. The car pulled out, and began to drive along the main road.

Hour upon hours passed, silently, the only time they talked was when Sylar told her to get into another car.

Claire desperately wanted to ask where they were going, but she knew better. Ask Sylar a question and he'd reward her with a glare if she were lucky. More likely, she'd probably get hurt.

* * *

"Why was Sylar here?" Noah demanded.

"Now why would I know?" Danko asked calmly. "But I do know what he took."

Noah waited, a look of irritation on his face. "Are you going to tell me?" he snapped.

"Well, it's not really a what, but a whom…"

Noah remembered what Sylar had said. You didn't know she was here, did you? "Who?"

"Claire," Danko replied, matter-of-factly.

Everything seemed to freeze. It couldn't be. Claire wasn't here, she was at home, she was safe.

"Nathan helped us to catch her about a week ago, we only just started interrogating her when Sylar arrived. We decided to keep her capture from you, as you might have divided loyalties."

He attempted to continue, but Noah cut him off. "We need to get her back. Do you have any idea what Sylar could be doing to her?" He felt like he wanted to explode, but knew that wouldn't convince Danko that he was a company man through and through. So he settled for the voice he often used with his family when telling them everything was going to be okay. The last time he had spoken like this, he had been convincing Claire that Sylar was dead.

"We're working on it, Noah. Most of our resources are pooled into finding those two."

"And what happens when we find them?" he asked, controlling his voice, not showing any of the rage he was feeling inside, rage at Danko for capturing her, rage at Sylar for kidnapping her.

"We put a bullet in Sylar's head, and promptly burn his body. We'll see what happens to Claire."

"I want her safe," Noah stated.

"We'll try." Danko turned, and walked out the door.

Noah's muscles tensed. He longed to beat Danko for a pulp for hurting his daughter. Instead, he made his way to the main research room. Where would Sylar take his Claire?

He sat at a computer and began to think. Claire needed to be brought back safely. And one of the only people he could trust was in hiding. There was no way to contact him. But Noah wasn't one to give up that easily.

* * *

They pulled up alongside a light blue house in a calm residential district of New York. It was identical to the others nearby. The front yard was lush and green, and beautiful flowers lined the path.

Sylar opened his door and walked halfway up the driveway before pausing and turning back around. He gazed at her for a second and twitched his fingers, forcing her out of the car. Claire fell on the pavement and leapt up immediately.

"Come on," he said firmly.

She timidly obeyed; frantically hoping Sylar's next victim wasn't home.

He silently opened the door, and strode in calmly and quietly. Claire looked around the nice, neat house and saw a few photos. She leaned over and picked one up. It showed a nice looking family. A middle-aged woman had one of her arms around a smiling man, about the same age. They each had a hand on the shoulder of a cute teenager.

"Sit down, get comfortable. I highly doubt they'll really care." He smirked.

"No, I'm fine standing up," Claire replied.

Sylar gave her a questioning look, one eyebrow raised. "Let's try that again. Sit down, get comfortable."

She didn't respond this time.

He laughed shortly. "This is the part where you say 'Alright', and sit down." The last two words rang with danger.

Claire glared at him. "Is this the way you always act before you murder someone, or is this a special show for me, because—" She was cut off telekinetically.

"I told you to sit down." He gracefully moved his hand and she felt herself being pulled towards him and the couch. Claire had no choice but to walk or be dragged. Once she was near the couch, he released her, and she sat on the very edge, as far away from Sylar as possible.

After about fifteen minutes, Claire gave in to her temptation. "Who are here for anyways?"

Sylar looked at her and smirked. "Steven Johnsen. He has the ability to revive plants, as I'm sure you noticed by the condition of their lawn."

"Yes, and I suppose you don't know anything else about him, just what you care about," Claire retorted.

"I suppose you could say that. He's a junior. His parents both have good jobs, and he's more of… the nerdy type. Today, he was participating in a science fair, which is almost over, so he ought to be back soon."

For almost twenty minutes, they sat there in silence, and Sylar's gaze kept flickering back to the analog clock hanging on the wall.

"What's wrong," Claire taunted him. "Getting a little impatient?"

"No," Sylar replied. "After all, Claire, I have all the time in the world." With this, he gave her a look that said Thanks to you. Claire's eyes flashed angrily at this. "It's just that clock." He stood up and went over to it. "It's two minutes, forty-three seconds fast, and gaining a half second every hour." Quickly fixing it, he came back to the couch, and sat down near her.

The rest of the wait passed in silence. Soon enough, the door clicked open, and they heard laughing as the family entered.

"What, are you just going to kill them all?" Claire hissed to Sylar.

"If they try and stop me," he replied shortly.

"Mom, Dad, I think we're out of milk. Could you guys run to the store and buy some?" Claire heard someone who was obviously Steven ask.

"Oh, of course, sweetie," the mother replied lovingly.

"Anything for our first-place son!" the father responded proudly.

The door clicked closed, and Steven entered the room without noticing them. He placed a blue ribbon on a shelf and stepped back to admire it.

"First place…" Sylar said musingly.

Steven whipped around. "Who are you?" he demanded.

"Oh, lets not worry about that…" Sylar grinned. "Quite an amazing ability you have, isn't it?"

"Who are you?" Steven repeated; less angry, more suspicious.

"Why don't you show me?" Sylar telekinetically brought a dead plant to him.

"You're like me!" the unsuspecting teenager exclaimed before gently touching the dead flower with his right hand. The flower blossomed before Claire's eyes. She glanced at Sylar and saw the look in his eyes. Only one thing could follow.

"Amazing," breathed Sylar. He brought up his hand and slammed Steven against the wall.

"What are you doing?" asked the scared teen.

Sylar merely grinned in reply and brought up his left pointer finger. He carefully drew it across Steven's forehead. Blood dripped across his face and Steven screamed.

Claire twisted around on the couch, curling into as small a ball as she could, burying her face into the sofa. She placed her arms on either side of her head, muffling the scream.

The screaming stopped. Claire looked up and watched as Sylar telekinetically placed Steven's body on the beautiful, oak table. His fingers began to gently probe Steven's exposed brain, as he searched for the key to his ability.

* * *

"What do you mean, Sylar has Claire? He already has her power, why would he want her?"

"I don't know, and I don't plan to wait and find out," Noah responded.

Emotions boiled up inside Peter. Claire was so innocent, so frail. She may be able to heal any physical wound, but if Sylar played his mind games on her, who knows what could happen.

Peter's fists curled up by his sides.

"Peter, calm down. Danko is searching for both of them. And when he finds them, I'll make sure that we get there first."

Noah was asking him to calm down? And how exactly was he supposed to do that? A cold-blooded, psychopathic serial killer had basically kidnapped his niece, someone he loved, and Noah was asking him to calm down?

"We'll find her. Don't worry."

"I'm going to start asking around. See if anyone has heard any word of her. I'll see if Matt has painted any pictures of her lately either."

"Okay good. You try and find them through that angle, I'll keep playing Danko."

Noah's phone rang. He picked it up and looked at the ID. "Speak of the devil. It's Danko." He answered it. "Hello?"

Peter looked at him anxiously as he listened to the half of the conversation he could hear, which wasn't very helpful as all Noah was saying was things like "Mhmm. Okay."

"What is it?" He demanded.

Noah looked at him. "There's been another Sylar killing. 17 year old by the name of Steven Johnsen."

All of Peter's muscles tensed up. Claire was with Sylar. If he had killed someone, he had probably made her watch. She had been traumatized after he stole her power, despite the fact that she didn't show it. Peter couldn't imagine what watching this would do to her.

He met Noah's eyes, and saw the same thought he was having reflected in them. Sylar was most definitely going to pay.

* * *

**(A/N Yes. Sylar can now revive plants. And yes, I know, that's a pretty stupid power. But I couldn't think of anything better. If you have any ideas, feel free to tell me. And yes. That chapter was scarce in details. The next chapter will be super-amazing, I promise. I'm working on it now. Loves to everybody who reviews.**

**Review please?? Criticism, advice… ideas… anything!!)**


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: Yes. Tim Kring and all the other writer guys still own Heroes. Unfortunately.**

* * *

Claire lay as still as she could on the couch. The echoes of Steven's cries were still ringing in her ears, and she couldn't convince herself to sit up and face the bloody mess spread across the other side of the room.

"Hmm…" Sylar was talking softly to himself in the next room. Apparently he had forgotten all about her, and for that, she was glad.

"Claire…" Sylar said, and she got a sinking feeling in her stomach. Obviously, he hadn't forgotten about her. "Why don't you come over here?"

"No," she replied fiercely. There was no way she was going to go over there.

"Yes." His voice no longer held that teasing, sadistic quality. It was more controlling, more demanding.

She felt an invisible force tugging on her limbs. Sylar was using his telekinesis to force her over by him. Claire resisted as much as possible, but it was futile. Her body was no longer under her control.

He moved her arms and torso until she was sitting up straight. On the opposite wall, there was a splash of blood on the wall where Steven Johnsen's head had been split open. A small pool of blood was collecting on the floor.

Her body stood up and straightened at a twitch of Sylar's fingers. A gentle pulling motion with his hand, and she was walking towards him.

Claire shut her eyes tightly. Momentarily, she jerked to a stop and knew she must be standing right next to Sylar. He made a disapproving noise and her eyes opened.

Steven Johnsen was lying on the table. His eyes were still closed tightly in pain, and his face was pale. Blood had dripped into his eyes and was bright red against his white face. Claire refused to look at his exposed brain.

"Amazing, isn't it?" Sylar breathed out. "Of course, yours was even more so." He added with a look in her direction.

A tear fell down her cheek as she thought of what the teenage boy lying before her could have been. That he wouldn't even get the chance for, now. Claire gazed at his young face and tried to hold back the rest of her tears. She was not going to cry in front of this monster.

He turned his attention back to finding the source of the teenager's ability. Claire was still being held still, however. Obviously, forgetting about something like that was not one of his flaws.

Flaws? Did he have flaws? Claire would have shaken her head could she move. Of course he had flaws. There was the fact that… he was a killer. Yes. He was a killer. That was a major flaw.

"Aha!" Her attention was jerked back to the scene in the dining room. "Here it is…"

* * *

He closed his eyes and felt the euphoric feeling that always accompanied a new ability come over him. Once the feeling ended, the hunger that usually gnawed away at the edge of his conscious was gone, but he knew it wouldn't last long. It never did. Soon, the hunger would be back.

Sylar opened his eyes, and the first thing he saw was Claire. She was standing there, locked in by his powers. He was using them without realizing it. Again.

Sylar released her and watched her posture change. Watched it become more relaxed, less rigid. More Claire. Her head tipped down to look at the floor, and her hair fell down around her face.

He smirked. He didn't know why. It was just one of those things he did out of habit. It didn't mean he meant it. Part of his image.

Sirens blared in the distance, only audible to his finely tuned ears. He was always on the run, always ready. Since Claire had never had to always be aware of what was around her, she probably wouldn't hear them for another twenty seconds or so.

"We need to go. Now." There was no need to be soft with her. She was strong; she could handle it.

"Why?" She sounded devastated, destroyed. Sylar looked again at the way she was standing, trying to read as much from it as possible. The whole time, the sirens grew louder. Claire would hear them soon.

"Because I said." Unconsciously, he grabbed a white towel and wiped off the blood that would stain his hands.

Claire followed him weakly outside. Instead of leading her to the car they had taken here, he led her across the street, to the neighbor's house. Their car was a nice little Volkswagen Jetta. He leaned down and focused on the lock mechanism on the driver's side, telekinetically moving the pins to open the lock. It only took a second. Once opened, he flicked open the passenger side door, waiting for Claire to sit down.

Her head was up, and she was focusing on something. He was sure that she was trying to discern as to whether or not the rising and falling pitch of the siren was coming towards them.

"Get in," he snarled.

She jumped, frightened at his tone, and he felt a moment of Gabriel-like regret, but soon brushed it off, shoving it back into the corner of his mind.

Like a frightened animal, she slid into the passenger seat and closed her door.

"You should put your seatbelt on," Sylar noted.

"Like you care," she snorted. "Besides, I'll be fine. I can't get hurt, remember?"

"Of course I know that, Claire. But a cop won't." He was covering up, and he knew it. Why couldn't he keep those feelings under control when he was around her? He hated those moments of caring, when he couldn't stop himself from saying something stupid. It made him feel weak.

She snorted again, and Sylar pulled her seatbelt across her with his favorite ability. The sirens were extremely close now. In moments, they'd be on the street. He sparked the engine with the ability he'd gained from Elle, and it roared to life.

Calm, cool, and certain, he backed out of the driveway. A quick spin of the wheel, and they were on the road, headed for the freeway.

Sylar glanced sideways at her and saw how pathetic she looked as she leaned against her window. The sun shone in from the side and caused the veil of hair she was trying to hide behind to glow golden.

He pulled onto the freeway before risking another glance in her direction.

Her eyes had a glossy, yet dull look. She had almost been crying, and it was clear she was tired. But he couldn't stop, not yet. Not until they were far away. Fifty miles at the least, preferably the next state. However, as they were in the middle of New York, and it was late, it was highly unlikely they would make it out of the state before he fell asleep at the wheel.

There was bound to be some, crappy, out of the way, small town motel soon.

* * *

Peter paced, impatient, waiting for a reply.

His phone buzzed.

"Hello?" he answered anxiously.

"Peter, is that you?" it sounded vaguely like Matt.

"Yeah."

"Rebel texted me and said you needed to talk to me."

"Is Molly there?"

"Peter, is this about Sylar taking Claire?"

Boy, news sure traveled fast among the gifted. "Yeah."

"She might not—"

Peter cut him off. "Just ask her, please." He would beg if he had to.

A soft murmuring came from the background. Then Matt returned. "She says she'll help. Right now, she's finding a map and thumbtack. It's the easiest way for her."

"Of course," Peter replied, getting excited. Molly would find her. Molly could find anybody.

Moments passed, agonizingly. "Um… she wants to talk to you."

"What's wrong?"

"I don't know. She won't tell me."

"Alright, put her on." Peter's curiosity was spiked. Why wouldn't Molly want to tell Matt?

A shuffling noise came through the phone, followed by a thud. Next came a soft squeak, and Peter called into the phone, "Everything okay?"

"Yeah… and no." Molly's sweet, innocent voice filtered through the phone, coming out slightly tinny. "As far as what you just heard, yeah, I just dropped the phone. As far as Claire goes… I'm not so sure."

Peter had to ask. "What do mean you're not so sure?"

She hesitated. He could sense it. And with that, it was obvious she didn't want to tell him.

"I can't find her."

"That's impossible. You can find anybody. Except Matt's dad. But that was because he was a mind-reader. You don't think Sylar can read minds now, do you?" He was babbling. Just trying to find a logical explanation besides the obvious one: that Claire was dead.

"No, I was able to find him. But he could see me, and find me. She's just… gone. Nowhere."

"That's impossible," he repeated. "That would mean she's…" Peter couldn't bring himself to say it. Because that would mean accepting it. And if he accepted the fact that Claire was dead, that meant he had to tell Noah. And Nathan. And his mom. And hope Noah told Claire's mom.

"Dead," Molly finished his sentence softly, compassionately. "I'm so sorry, Peter." He heard her voice crack and she started crying. Another shuffle sound followed.

"Peter, I heard everything. I'm so sorry," Matt said. His voice sounded muffled as though he were holding back tears.

A lump formed in Peter's throat. He had spent so much time protecting her from Sylar, ever since that first time in Odessa when he had been told to save the cheerleader. Now he had killed her.

"I need to go tell Noah." Somehow he choked the words out past the lump in his throat. "And Nathan. They need to know."

"I understand. Talk to you later, Peter." He was so sympathetic, so kind. And on this end of the phone, Peter wanted to destroy something. To rip something apart. Preferably Sylar.

Walking slowly to the door, he contemplated all the best ways to get a hold of Noah. He could find Sandra and tell her first; Noah probably wouldn't want her to know. Or he could ask Rebel for Noah's phone number and tell him over the phone. Peter decided on the first one. Sandra deserved to know; Claire was her daughter.

He walked out the door of the small apartment he was renting. His mom had said that he should live with her and Nathan. But Peter liked having his own small house.

Luckily for him, he didn't pass any of his neighbors. They probably would have asked why he looked both devastated and murderous at the same time. And what was he supposed to say? A serial killer who had been stalking his niece for years, found her and cut off the top of her head after he had been protecting her for so long and got her ability by looking at her brain had kidnapped his niece and finally killed her? Yeah, they wouldn't freak out at that. Even if it was just because they thought he was insane.

Peter realized he was in the parking lot. He looked around and found his car. Pulling out his keys, he unlocked and opened the door. Before he sat down, he remembered Sandra was still in Costa Verde. He shook his head and locked the door closed once more.

Nobody was around, so he bent his knees and leapt into the air. Nathan's flying ability took him higher up into the air. The wind rushed past his body, rustling his jacket. Once he was high enough, he tipped himself forward and propelled himself towards California.

Peter didn't understand how it worked, nor did he long to. All he knew was that somehow, he knew what to do, and that it was amazing. Seeing the ground rush by beneath him and feeling the exhilarating wind was something that always made him feel better. Even if it was just the tiniest bit.

He touched down behind the Bennett household, careful to make sure nobody saw him. It was sunny, and he appreciated the warmth for a moment as he walked around the house to the front door.

Peter knocked three times with his knuckles, and heard Sandra call "Coming!"

The door opened to reveal Noah's wife and Claire's adopted mother.

"Well, hello, Peter. Neither Claire or Noah is here right now so…" He could still detect a faint Southern drawl to her voice.

"I know. I'm here to see you and Lyle." Something in his expression, or tone must have tipped her off, because she became worried.

"Of course. Come in," she said warmly. "Lyle!"

Claire's little brother came down the stairs wearing headphones. "What?"

"Peter had something to tell us."

The boy took off his headphones and looked at Peter expectantly.

"Why don't you guys sit down?" Peter suggested.

Sandra led them into the living room. Peter followed her, and Lyle followed him. She sat down on the couch, and Lyle plopped down next to her. Peter sat in a chair across the small coffee table.

Unexpectedly, Sandra stood up again. "Why, I've forgotten my manners! Would you like something to drink, darlin'?"

"Um, sure."

"What would you like?"

"Coffee would be great, thanks." Peter needed a stimulant for what he was about to say. Caffeine would work perfectly.

"Sugar?" she called from the kitchen.

"Yes, please," he replied.

He heard her bustling around in the kitchen, and soon she came back with two coffee mugs. Peter took one and blew on the hot liquid for a second before taking a sip.

"Mm. Perfect," he complimented her.

"So, what was it you had to say?" she asked him.

"Um… I have some bad news. I'm afraid that Claire…"his voice cracked. So he tried again. "Claire's been kidnapped."

The look on Sandra's face registered as shock, grief, but also a bit of relief. "By those agents you mean?"

"No. Well, originally. And then she was kidnapped from the kidnappers."

"Well, that's a good thing, right?"

"Not exactly. Sylar's the one who kidnapped her."

The mug slipped from her hands and shattered on the floor. Ceramic shards flew everywhere within a couple feet.

"That monster? What could he possibly want?" she snarled. Peter saw a look of hatred and fear in her eyes. She was masking her fear with anger.

"That's not all."

"What else could there be? How can it possibly get worse?"

"I called Molly Walker. She has an ability too. She can find anybody, anywhere, anytime."

"So you know where she's at?" Now she was hopeful. Peter hated this. How come he had to tell her like this? Why did she have to find out from him?

"Not exactly. Molly couldn't find her. She's…" A tear slid down his cheek as he prepared to accept the reality. "Dead."

"No," Sandra gasped. Lyle looked stricken. "No!" she shrieked again. "That's impossible! Claire's invincible, she can't get hurt!"

"There are weak points," Peter said, trying to soothe her and himself. Another tear fell down his face.

Sandra looked at him with hollow eyes, and Lyle wrapped his arms around her. Her tears fell in little droplets, like salt water rain on the carpet.

At that moment, the door clicked open and shut. Everything froze for Peter. Noah was home.

"Honey? I'm home," Noah called into the house.

He walked into the room, and saw Sandra there, crying with Lyle holding her. And then he saw Peter, who's cheeks were wet.

"What happened?" he asked.

"Noah, I talked to Molly. She couldn't find Claire." Why did he have to say it again? Wasn't once enough? Peter was literally choking.

"Claire's dead?" He asked it matter-of-factly, as though he already knew the answer. Which he probably did.

"I'm afraid so…" he broke off.

Peter couldn't take it. Noah's face showed no emotion. No sadness, or grief. He was her father. He was supposed to care. He was supposed to think of a logical explanation.

Instead he just stood there, looking at Peter, who had stood up.

"I need to go," Peter said shortly, still fighting to talk around the lump in his throat.

"Peter wait," Sandra said weakly, voice cracking in sorrow.

"No. He should go," Noah replied just as curtly.

Peter retreated out the back door and leapt lightly off his feet. The air rushed past his face as he flew through the air.

He knew what he had to do.

* * *

(**A/N Bwahaha. That is a horrible ending. And that chapter was very dialoguey. Is that a word? Probably not. And yes. Sylairishness is awesome. And I will try to update sooner this time [As if that's ever gonna happen].)**


	4. Chapter 4

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* * *

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Disclaimer: Still don't own it. Probably never will.

**(A/N Okay guys. I got a few questions about the last chapter. Hope this clears some of them up for you.)**

* * *

Matt heard a light rapping on the door, and called out, "Coming!" as he dried his hands off from washing the dishes.

The knocking came again, louder and more urgent.

He got to the door and opened it, seeing Peter on the doorstep. His hair was disheveled; apparently he had been flying.

"Hey, Peter. What can I do for you?"

"I need to see Molly."

Matt noticed the tightness in his voice. "Why?" he inquired casually, trying to keep the suspicion out of his voice.

"Just let me see her, Parkman."

"First tell me why, _Petrelli_," Matt said, imitating the way Peter had spoken.

"I need her help!"

"With what? She already tried to help you find Claire, _tried_ being the key word. There's nothing more she can do to help you." Matt ended firmly, and began to close the door.

"She can find Sylar."

Matt stopped. Was Peter crazy? Didn't he remember that last time she tried to find him, she nearly fainted?

"I don't need your ability to know what you're thinking, Matt. Your thinking I'm crazy, and wondering if I remember what happened last time. Because I do. But she's older now, she has to be better at her ability." He couldn't keep the desperation out of his tone.

Matt ever so slightly tilted his head to the side, drawing out the ability he used so often, seeing as how he was one of the members of Nathan's security staff. The rush that came with reading a persons mind was exhilarating. He knew that with a single thought he could delve deeper into Peter's mind, and discover each and every secret, or he could persuade Peter that he was someone else.

Instead, he controlled his ability, and merely listened to what Peter was thinking.

_That jerk needs to pay._

He pulled his mind back into his own head, and tried to rid himself of Peter's overwhelming need for revenge.

"No. I'm not letting you use Molly to find Sylar."

"She's not even your kid!" Peter exclaimed.

"You haven't known Claire for more than three years," Matt shot back.

"I don't care!" Peter was becoming more agitated, more frantic.

"Matt?" Molly's sweet voice came from behind him. He turned to look at her.

"Yeah?"

"What does Peter want?"

Before Peter could respond to that himself, Matt tactfully said, "You know how you couldn't find Claire for him?"

She nodded.

"Now he wants you to find Sylar."

Her breath hitched in her throat. Clearly, she was thinking about how he had slaughtered her entire family, looking for the power that rested within her brain.

"Molly, if you don't want to do it, you don't have to."

"I want to…"

Behind Matt, Peter gave a small grin, feeling slightly better.

"But I can't."

His grin fell immediately. "But—"

"He'll find me," Molly cut him off. "He'll find me and kill me."

Her teenage face was empathetic, and her eyes brimmed with tears. "I'm sorry, Peter, I really am."

"Whatever," he snapped back, suddenly feeling exhausted and irritated. "I'll find him myself."

He suddenly leapt forward, shoving an unsuspecting Matt out of the way. His hand wrapped around hers as he absorbed her ability.

"Peter, it's too dangerous!" she cried. "He's more powerful than you! You can only absorb one ability at a time! He has so many! Now, all you can do is find him! What are you going to do then?"

"Then all I need to do is touch him. He has empathy too."

Peter whipped around and stormed over the threshold, slamming the door behind him.

Matt sighed. Poor Peter had been through so much, trying to protect his niece.

"I'm so sorry…" Molly was almost sobbing. "I really wish I could help him…"

"Don't worry about it. He'll be okay."

"I should have helped him! After all, I was the one who told him she was dead! I should have at least told him where he was, so that he could keep…" she broke off.

"There was nothing you could do. You didn't want to risk it."

"But now I can't stop him…"

"Molly. Stop torturing yourself."

* * *

Sylar lay on his side, studying his companion, who was asleep on the other bed. Her golden hair was splayed across the pillow, and she was curled up under the covers. It was early in the morning, around 6, and he had to assume that she would wake up soon. They couldn't risk staying here much longer.

He resisted the temptation to go over there and brush the locks of hair on her face away. To distract himself, he stood up, and began to search for the remote that had disappeared sometime since the last cleaning.

He began to wonder why Claire was here with him. He hadn't made her come. She had followed him after he gained his newest power.

Sylar heard a rustling, and turned to see Claire sitting up and stretching. She extended her arms and he heard a soft _pop_ as her elbow cracked.

"Claire," he said, calmly and gently, but making it clear that he was going to continue after she acknowledged him.

"G'mornin'," she replied sleepily.

"Get up. We're leaving soon."

"Mhmm…"

She slowly stood up, being sure to extend most of her muscles. Sylar couldn't help but think how good she looked with her hair still slightly mussed from sleeping. Still wearing the pink T-shirt he bought, he noticed. Of course, it wasn't like she had time to change.

He snagged the bag of stuff, and Claire stayed standing next to the bed.

"I'm not coming."

Sylar stopped short. "Excuse me?"

"There's no way I'm following you."

"Yes you are."

He spun around and stalked towards her. "Whether I have to make you or whether you come willingly."

He looked dangerous, and he knew it. The fear was prominent in her defiant gaze. But still she didn't move, not even when he was extremely close.

Sylar deliberately extended one arm and brushed her cheek. "Do I have to make you come along?"

She stepped back. "You… could just let me go."

"No, Claire, I couldn't. You and I both know that."

This time, he grabbed her shoulder and firmly steered her out the door. Once they were in the parking lot, he scanned for the most inconspicuous car there.

He spotted a white SUV, and began to head for it. There was only one other car. It was a trashed compact car, which was sure to draw attention.

Claire stopped when she realized where he was headed. "Oh, no. We are _not_ taking that… thing."

"Come along, Claire."

Sylar began to lead her towards the giant car, and watched with amusement as she followed him. No telekinesis necessary. Of course, he didn't know why, and that always bugged him.

He moved to unlock the door, and found it already unlocked. Made it much easier for him. Inside, the keys were sitting in the ignition. He smirked.

Claire slid into the passenger seat next to him. Turning to face her, he couldn't help but admire the way her hair fell down in a shimmering veil around her face. Her hand rested on the armrest nearest his seat, and he nonchalantly moved his arm to touch hers.

Instantly, she jerked away. As was to be expected.

"Claire you need to ride in the back. Now."

She turned to face him, defiance in the very way she looked at him. "No."

He grasped her right shoulder, the one closest to the windshield, and propelled her in the back, both telekinetically and physically. Too much effort had been put into making them think she was gone, he wouldn't let it be thrown away because some traffic cam picked her up on film.

Sylar turned the keys and the engine started up. He pulled out of the driveway just in time to see an attendant come running out, screaming, "That's my car!"

The speed limit on the nearly empty freeway was 70 miles per hour. Sylar was driving at nearly 100.

He glanced back at Claire again, once more wondering as to why she had followed him out of the Johnsen's house without a struggle. And then more recently when they were walking towards the SUV they were currently driving.

The most likely reason was that she was afraid and thought he might, just possibly, protect her.

Instead of speculating further, he voiced his question, being careful not to sound to confused. Or stupid for that matter.

"Claire, why are you here now?"

A moment passed before she answered. "Because you got me out of that God forsaken place, and then proceeded to kidnap me and refuse to release me."

He nearly winced. "Yes, okay, but why didn't you try to run earlier, when I wasn't controlling you. Or yesterday, for that matter," he said, trying to sound amused.

"Hmm. I don't know. I think I just knew that it was no use. You'd either stop me, or find me again."

Nothing. She wasn't lying, but she was hiding something, that much he was sure of.

"Is that all, Claire?"

"Yes. What, did you expect something else?"

She was trapped in an SUV, in the middle of nowhere, with a serial killer - her _nightmare_ - and she still had the nerve to be snide? What was wrong with that poor girl?

And yet, the familiar tingle of someone lying ran down his spine. So she was hiding something about her motives. It didn't matter though; he would figure it out soon enough.

* * *

"Sir, we've got something. A white SUV, license plate 834-RWZ was just stolen from a motel parking lot in a small town in New York. Said to be headed south on the Interstate. The guy whose car was stolen couldn't give a description, but we think it was Sylar, due to the proximity with the last murder."

"Get your team on it. I want him found, Agent."

"Of course, sir." The young agent began to hurry away.

"Agent!" Noah called after him.

"Yes, sir?"

Noah grimaced. "Stop calling me sir. It's Mr. Bennet.

"Yes, sir – Mr. Bennet."

An alert came up on his computer screen. He clicked the flashing link. It was a traffic camera from a city near D.C.

It rewound, and then showed a white SUV passing through. Noah clicked rewind again, and zoomed in on the license plate. He could make out 83, the next three numbers were blurry, and a Z at the end. The speed at the bottom left hand corner read 98mph. It couldn't be a coincidence. But, just to make sure, he checked the driver and passengers.

The driver was white, male, with dark hair, and heavy eyebrows. Sylar. Nobody else was in the vehicle. As was to be expected.

He grabbed the desk phone and quickly dialed the leader of Team 2, already on their way to the motel.

"Change of plans, Agent. We've found him on another traffic cam in D.C."

Noah gave the rest of the location, and told the same to three other teams in the area.

Standing up, he motioned for his team, Team 1, to follow. Danko stopped them.

"Just where do you think you're going?" he drawled, piercing Noah with his gaze.

"We've found Sylar," Noah responded truthfully.

However, Danko raised one eyebrow. "Is this your way of telling me not to expect Claire back? That you'll find her and protect her, rather than doing your job and bringing her back?"

"Nobody else was in the car with him."

Noah led Danko to his computer, and showed him the feed from the traffic cam.

"Hmm. Okay. Continue. But be sure to put a bullet in his head."

"Of course."

Noah left the building in a rush, not wanting to miss this opportunity that may never come again. His team was in the van, waiting for him. Agent Vinskey already had the vehicle running. That man was a very good agent. That was why he was Noah's second-in-command.

"Alright team," Noah said halfway jokingly as they rolled out. "Time to catch us a serial killer. And then kill him," he added more seriously.

* * *

**(A/N I tried to put a little bit of Sylaire in there. Next chapter will have more. I promise. Hope I answered a few questions. If anything didn't make sense, tell me.**

**And REVIEW for crying out loud!)**


	5. Chapter 5

There, in the rearview mirror. That same black van. Sylar flicked his eyes back onto the road, searching for the next exit.

"Shoot," he muttered as he quickly moved over, and honks erupted behind him. The black van slid into place two cars back.

"Claire, there is a black van behind us, do you see it?"

"Umm… yeah."

"There are agents in that van."

"How do you know?" She was worried. They had locked her up, put her on a drug that stopped her ability, and then proceeded to interrogate her. It's no wonder she was afraid.

"They've been following us for the past four miles." Sylar tried to keep the uneasiness out of his voice as he made a left out of the small town he had pulled into. No need to have a big fight in the middle of a crowded town.

Apparently the agents had the same thought, because they followed him.

For a few minutes, Sylar ran possible scenarios through his head. He couldn't risk a fight. They might find Claire, and that wouldn't work. But there was no way to avoid them. They would just follow him.

"Claire. Do you want to go back to that facility?"

"No!" Claire sounded agitated by the very thought. "Never."

"That's what I thought. You're going to have to trust me then," he said softly, knowing that she wouldn't particularly take to that concept.

She met his eyes in the mirror, and gave a barely perceptible nod to his surprise. "Okay."

* * *

"Team 4 is on the trail of the vehicle in question, headed west on 76th St. Just exited off the Interstate," Noah heard from over the fuzzy intercom. "Over."

"Team 1 on the way. Teams 3 and 6, abort. Distance too great. Repeat, Teams 3 and 6, abort. Over," Noah replied.

"Copy that," both agents in charge of those teams called statically.

"Team 2 on the move."

They were close to where Team 4 had called in. They were headed west on 76th, and Noah was headed north on 83rd. They intersected soon, and Agent Traker would have called it in if they were past that point.

"Alright team, once we hit 76th, we'll set up a roadblock, and hid out. I want at least two agents on each side of the road."

"Copy," his team chorused.

They would do this right. Experience did that to you. Of course, it would have all been better, had they had the Haitian, but he was deemed "dangerous".

There it was. The white SUV headed their way. Noah braced himself for the fight that would surely ensue.

Sylar glanced once more at Claire, who was crouching down by the driver's side door. He knew that a river ran nearby, w

* * *

ith a cliff over looking it. As long as he could keep the car going fast enough, they could pull this off.

He spotted the roadblock up ahead, and waited until it became clear. Noah was standing there, tranquilizer gun in hand, pistol at his side.

With a quick twist of the wheel, he jerked the car sideways, off road into the dusty fields. Every half a second, they went over a bump and the impact jarred Sylar's teeth. He heard a soft "Oomph" and turned for a second to see Claire getting back up by the door. The cliff was going to be in front of them momentarily.

In the rearview mirror, he could see a black van tearing up the fields after him, and another behind that. He smirked, knowing they couldn't catch up to him.

And then they were flying. The car sailed through the air for about two seconds before splashing under water. Slowly but surely, the car began to sink.

Sylar looked back at Claire, and saw her grim determination to get out of this situation alive. Not that she could die. But still, there was a hint of panic in her eyes. She was only human after all.

"Not yet, Claire. We have to wait for the water to fill up the car, else the pressure will be too great to open the door. If you _do_ manage it, the water will rush in and knock you away. Just wait," he said soothingly. "Not only that, but we don't want them to see us."

She paused, and waited while the car slipped under. Water began to seep in through the cracks in the doors and other places. It slowly, painstakingly filled the car, and a knot formed in her stomach. _We're going to die_, she thought. _After all his words about trusting him, he is going to let us die._

Claire tipped her head upwards, getting the precious extra seconds she could while it covered the door. Right before the water covered her mouth and nose, she took a deep breath and held it. A hand touched her arm and she looked back to see Sylar crouching behind her. He gave her a thumbs-up while holding his breath and motioned for her to open the door.

She snapped the door open as fast as she could, which was actually pretty slow considering the fact that water was still pushing on the car. A small wave of water rushed in as she opened it, filling the remainder of the car. Kicking, she struggled her way out as fast as she could. Sylar followed, keeping a hand on her arm.

Vaguely, she remembered the last time she was under water. Alex had been there. That time, agents had been chasing them too.

They paused, and Sylar let a few small bubbles of air out, finding which way was up. He gripped her wrist gently but firmly and began to tow her up.

Claire began to kick her legs, trying to help as much as possible. It felt like they had been under forever and her lungs began to burn. She could see a faint light above her, but it was too far, she thought. There was no more air left her lungs. She had to take a breath. Right then, she burst through to the surface, gasping for air. She looked behind her and saw the agents, scanning the water for them.

She kicked, swimming as fast as she could, but still Sylar passed her almost effortlessly, and had to slow down. He found shore and changed direction towards it. Luckily, there was a large town nearby and he could see the light from hotels.

"Let's get a hotel room and dry off," he shivered.

"Why? I'm not cold," Claire replied scathingly.

"Claire," he warned her.

She began to laugh, and soon, he was laughing along with her. He touched her arm lightly and steered her towards the town.

* * *

Noah scanned the horizon for Sylar. Nothing. He could barely see, the sun was setting right in his eyes.

"Any sign of him?"

"No sign," all his agents replied.

"Darn it. There's no way he'd drive off a cliff and not have a plan to survive the crash." Guess we're going to have to start again. Call it in," he said.

They had lost him. The man who tortured his daughter for 3 years, and now, somehow killed her when it was supposed to be impossible, had gotten away. Noah began to shake angrily.

"Mr. Bennet, Danko wants us back at Building 26," Agent Vinskey told him.

"Tell him we'll be there."

Noah slowly began to walk back to the van. Before he reached the door, he turned around once more, and searched the surface of the water again. He thought he spotted a small dark speck on the water, but he blinked, and it disappeared.

_Must just be my imagination. After all, Sylar can't breathe underwater_, he thought.

He opened the van door and slipped in. All of his agents were silent, knowing that their leader was under a great deal of stress.

Vinskey started up the engine and pulled out behind the other team, who had already left without Noah noticing.

"So what's next?" Vinskey asked Noah casually.

"I doubt he's going to be seen on camera again."

The others murmured their assent. Sylar wasn't that dumb. He would stay hidden.

"So I guess we'll just have to wait for him to make a different mistake."

* * *

Claire lay down on the soft hotel bed. Sylar had left over an hour ago, saying that he trusted her enough to leave her alone. So here she was, by herself in an empty room.

Why was she still here anyway?

There was a small stack of cash on the bedside table, consisting of tens and twenties. It was enough to sustain her for at least a week or more. He never withdrew more than a hundred. But it would be long enough to get away from Sylar and hopefully back home.

Claire rolled over and grabbed the pile, and then landed on her feet next to the bed. After folding it in half, she stuffed it into her front pocket. Silently, the ex-cheerleader made her way across the room, and turned the handle. Despite the fact that she knew Sylar wasn't there, she felt the need to be silent, as though he were sleeping.

The door opened easily, and she took a step outside the room. Her hands and feet were shaking, and she could feel the triumph nearing.

Hands descended on her shoulders from behind. Fear rushed through her body. They spun her and she found herself face to face with a very angry Sylar.

"And where do you think you're going?"

"I-I was hungry. And there was n-no food in the r-room," she stammered.

He smirked that knowing smirk of his. "I think you're forgetting something, Claire. And that would be that I can tell when somebody is lying. A little trick I picked up from one Sue Landers. Not only that, but you could have used room service."

Claire inhaled sharply, and could smell the faint metallic scent of blood. He may have tried to wash his hands, but not very well. "Who was it this time?" she snarled.

Sylar shoved her back into the room through the still open door. He telekinetically closed it and locked it as he approached her.

"Just be glad I trusted you enough to leave you here instead of bringing you with me. That's never going to happen again."

"I asked who was it," she repeated.

"James Martin. He was a shape shifter," he replied casually, as though they were talking about what to have for dinner, rather than whom he had murdered.

"Oh, great," she snorted.

"Well, for me, it is great. Now I can drive around without being recognized by anyone."

"Just what we need. A serial killer who can roam around without being recognized. Brace yourself, world," she snapped sarcastically. "At least I'm still the same."

"Yeah, and if they thought you were still alive, that might just be a liability," he shot back before he could stop himself. Too late, he realized his mistake as her face changed from just angry to confused _and_ angry.

"What do you mean, if they thought I was still alive?"

Well, he had gotten himself into this. And he would never lie to Claire, no matter how much it hurt her.

"Molly Walker has the ability to find any person, anywhere."

"I know that," she snapped.

"She was looking for you. I had to use one of my abilities to block you. The conclusion she would have come up with was that you were dead. I'm assuming either your naïve uncle, or your father came to her."

He watched the emotions race across her face. Sadness, worry, and then finally, again, anger.

"How could you do that?" she shrieked.

"How could you betray my trust?" he challenged her.

Claire spun around and sat on the bed. "I'm not talking to you."

"Fine," he replied shortly. She would, eventually. He had forever to wait. Literally.

Sylar studied her as nonchalantly as he could as she lay down on her side and closed her eyes to go to sleep. He watched as her breathing slowed. There was only one bed, he mused as he walked around to the other side. Oh well. It didn't bother him any.

He laid beside her and inhaled the scent of her hair and calmed himself enough to sleep.

* * *

**(A/N Wow. I had a really hard time writing that chapter. I don't know why. Not only that, but AFTER I wrote it, I forgot to post it. So it's been sitting here, on my computer for weeks. I know, I'm so smart, right? And it is soo obvious that I started this thing a coupla episodes before The Invisible Thread. But a lot of my ideas involved shape-shifting, so I hadta throw that in there.)**


	6. Chapter 6

Peter sat down at his slightly cluttered desk nestled in the corner of his apartment. He had chosen to live here rather than with Nathan and his mother in the Petrelli mansion. There was no reason to spend more time with that traitorous, hypocritical jerk of a brother than he needed to.

Carefully, he laid out the map book with all 50 states and District Columbia in front of him, and a map of Mexico nearby, just in case. The book was still closed. From what Peter had seen of Molly using her ability, which was only two or three times, she just focused on a name and used a thumbtack to pinpoint the location of her subject.

He stood up again and swiftly walked into the kitchen. Once he was there, he snatched up a sharp thumbtack and a chocolate-chip cookie. Back at his desk, he bit into the cookie and remembered the first time he had witnessed Molly using her power. She had said later that it was better if she had a face to go with the name. Well, luckily, he had a face.

Peter flipped the map book open to the first state page, Alabama, and took another bite of the medium sized-cookie. He finished it off, and relaxed as much as possible, until an unbidden thought entered his mind.

_What if Molly hadn't really tried?_

Molly was a little girl, what if she was so afraid of her ability and of Sylar that she had just pretended to try, but didn't want to give Peter a false location. Now that Peter had thought of that, there was no way he could just forget about it. He had to try and find Claire now, no matter what he may find.

However, first, he ought to test it out.

Peter opened the map book to the fist state page, Alabama, and thought about Nathan. His right hand hovered over the page and he felt the borrowed power flow through him. It began to tremble slightly and his left hand flipped through the pages until it settled on the page displaying Washington D.C.

His arm seemed to move of it's own accord, narrowing down the location of his brother. Eventually it settled on one point and he stabbed the tack into the paper. When he looked at the map, he saw the address written next to the tack. 1600 Pennsylvania Ave. So he was at the Presidents' house, probably trying to convince him to give more money to his "noble cause".

Well, now he knew how the power worked.

He reached inside his desk and pulled out a school picture of his niece. Peter closed his eyes and focused on her. On her name, on her face, on her. He plucked the thumbtack out of the map and held it up the same way he had before, preparing to find her. He inhaled deeply, and then exhaled, calming his breathing, and calming himself.

Nothing.

He felt nothing. Instead of that feeling of knowing, the feeling that he had when finding Nathan, it was like emptiness. A void where he knew that life should be. If Sylar was blocking her, he should have felt a sort of wall. But there was no wall. Just the feeling of grasping at air.

Peter tore himself away from the ability and held back a sob. Molly had been right. There had been nothing. Claire was gone.

It fueled Peter's desire to find Sylar. Anger took place of sorrow and he felt hatred the likes of which he had never felt before boil his blood. He would find Sylar. He would find Sylar and destroy him for killing Claire if it was the last thing he did.

* * *

Sylar woke in the middle of the night with a start and felt someone looking for them. Automatically he cloaked Claire with an ability he had picked up in Vegas. Now neither of them could be found.

He lay back down behind Claire who was still sleeping, undisturbed, unknowing that he had just repeated the offense that had infuriated her earlier. A flicker of doubt ran through his mind. Was he doing the right thing by keeping her here? Of course he was.

Casually, he draped an arm across her waist, and tried to relax enough to go back to sleep.

* * *

That man. Sylar.

Peter focused intently on everything he knew about him, his looks, his attitude, his history and let the power flow through him. And found the same nothing. Which was impossible.

Sylar would never let himself be dead. That man was like a cockroach.

Which meant that something was wrong. Very wrong.

He grabbed his cell phone from where he had set it down and dialed Noah's number.

"Hello?" Noah answered.

"Hey, Noah, it's Peter. I have a question."

"What about?"

"Well, sort of about Sylar."

The silence that followed seemed magnified ten-fold.

"Shoot."

"Well, I took Molly's ability and tried to find Claire myself."

"And?"

"Nothing. Like Molly said, there was nothing there, which would mean that she was dead, correct?"

"Yes, most likely."

"Well, I got that same feeling when I tried to find Sylar. But he wouldn't be dead too, would he?"

"Well, he did recently drive his car off a cliff into a river," Noah replied somewhat sarcastically.

Peter stood up and walked back into the kitchen while Claire's father explained what had happened.

"When we recovered the car, it was empty," Noah finished.

He picked up another chocolate-chip cookie and asked, "Was there any way that Sylar might have gotten the ability to hide from Molly's ability?"

"Well," Noah began, "there was a teenager in Vegas that was killed by Sylar, but we have no idea what his ability was. Perhaps that was it."

"And if his ability was being able to hide…" Peter began.

"Then that could explain the feeling you got when searching for him."

Peter thoughtfully took a bite of the small cookie. "But that doesn't explain Claire."

"This is just speculation, Peter, and I do not want you to tell my wife of this theory, there's no need to get her hope up, but the ability may be able to shield other people."

"In which case, Claire could still be alive!"

"Yes."

"Thanks, Noah! Bye!"

Peter hung up the phone and quickly ate the rest of his cookie before leaving his apartment.

_To go where?_ Where could Peter go to find Claire? How could he find Claire? How did he even know that Claire was alive?

Nathan had government power behind his back. And he cared about his daughter. Hopefully Peter would get the chance to explain what was going on and he would listen.

Peter tried to find Nathan without a map and discovered that it did work, just better with a map. Nathan was in his office.

He walked to the main road and hailed a taxi. He told the cab driver the address and tried to relax.

* * *

Claire stirred in her sleep, opening her eyes. Not seeing Sylar, she closed her eyes again and drowsed off.

She awoke again when something tightened around her waist and opened her eyes. Looking down, she saw Sylar's arm was wrapped around her waist as he tried to pull her closer. Claire rolled over as much as possible and discovered that he was still asleep. She gripped his arm and attempted to remove it.

After a few tries, she gave up with a muttered, "Boy, you're strong, even in your sleep."

She went to fall back asleep, but couldn't. So she lied there, aware of his every movement. And actually, to her surprise, it didn't kill her.

Seemingly hours later, he sat up himself. He saw Claire gazing at him, and winked at her with his signature smirk and left to the bathroom leaving her.

When he came back, she was sitting up on the single bed. She looked at him thoughtfully and he raised his eyebrows.

"What?" he asked, amused.

"Nothing. Well, actually… yeah. Nothing." She stammered.

"Come on, Claire. You can tell me."

"It's a question."

"Okay then, you can ask me. I won't laugh, or whatever it is your afraid of."

He brushed back a lock of her hair and she shuddered slightly. Then she took a deep breath and said, "Okay. Here goes nothing."

Sylar nodded slightly and waited patiently for her question.

"Why are you doing this? Why did you save me, and why are you dragging me around New York State?"

"Technically, we're in Pennsylvania."

"Whatever."

Sylar took a deep breath and let it out slowly. She asked. He couldn't lie to her. He wouldn't betray her like her father.

"I don't know."

That surprised her. "What do you mean, you don't know?"

"I mean, I don't know. There are quite a few reasons. For example, this is a great way to irritate your father. He does hate me."

"I wanna go home," she whispered.

"I know," he replied, gently. "But right now, we need to decide where we're going to go next."

"Don't you mean you need to decide?" Claire rolled her eyes.

* * *

"Well, yeah."

Peter paid the driver and walked up and into the large formidable building that held Nathan's office. Soon he passed by security and was on his way up to the office.

He marched up to the door and knocked.

"Come in," Nathan called.

Peter opened the door. The look on Nathan's face was priceless, but he soon covered it up.

"Pete," he greeted him. "Wasn't expecting you. How are you?"

"Fine," Peter responded. "Unlike Claire."

That got his attention. He stood up and motioned for Peter to close the door. Peter did so.

"Why? What happened to Claire?"

"You're buddy Danko—"

"He's not my buddy," Nathan interrupted.

"Whatever. He locked her up and drugged her and guess what. Sylar rescued her and now she's captive and could be dead."

"Did you say Sylar?"

"Yes."

"I know what you want, Pete, but I'm afraid I can't help you. If we find Sylar, then we may find Claire. But I can't go out of my way to find her."

Peter stood up. "She's your daughter."

"I know. Now get out before security arrives."

Molly's ability was no use if Sylar couldn't be found. But flying would be helpful. Again. Peter lunged forward and wrapped his fingers around Nathan's wrist before leaping out the open window and flying away.

_That was close_, Nathan thought. _But I didn't know that Sylar rescued Claire. Danko said she managed to escape. I'll have to talk with him._

* * *

Noah sat down on the couch in the hotel room he was renting. He opened his laptop and began to sift through people with abilities in the area. If he could find someone with a power that Sylar would want, maybe he could trap him.

Someone knocked.

He reached over and grasped his gun. Through the peephole, he saw Peter, with his hair all disheveled.

The door creaked slightly when he opened it and said, "How did you find me, Peter?"

"Doesn't matter… Anyways, have you gotten any leads on Sylar?"

"No I'm trying to figure out who he might be going after next. Come on in."

Peter came in and sat at the table. Noah resumed his position on the couch. After a while, Noah said, "Here's someone. Kayla Steppe. She can turn things into glass. Lives about a hundred and fifty miles from here."

"That sounds promising," Peter replied.

"If we start now, we can make it there before nightfall."

"Actually, we can make it there in three minutes or so. I have Nathan's ability again."

Noah glanced at Peter. "You saw Nathan?"

"Yeah. I was going to see if he would help find Sylar. He said no."

Claire's adoptive father nodded. "Well, if you can fly us there, that would be great. We can probably beat him."

Peter went over and opened the large window, and Noah stood beside him. Peter grasped his waist and launched them outside.

Moment later, they were standing in front of a small house in a small town. Noah knocked on the door and a pretty young, red-haired woman answered the door. She must've been about twenty-five.

"Are you Kayla Steppe?" he asked confidently.

"Yes," she replied uncertainly. "Why?"

"Can we come in?"

"Sure…"

Once they were inside, Noah turned to face her. "We know about your ability."

"What are you talking about…?" Her eyes flickered to the door.

"Look, it's okay," Peter jumped in. "We're here to help. I have an ability too."

"Oh yeah? Prove it," she challenged. "What is this ability of yours?"

"Well, I can copy other peoples abilities. For example, right now I have my brother's ability…" Peter hovered a foot or so above the ground for a second. "I would take yours to prove it, but then I wouldn't be able to fly anymore. And we might need that."

"Okay. I guess I'll trust you."

"You better, because we think that a serial killer who kills people for their abilities might be after you," Noah said firmly.

She gasped. "What?"

"But we can protect you. We actually want to catch him, so if you could just let us help you that would be great."

"Okay… What do I need to do?"

"Just let us hang out here and if he shows up, we'll take care of him."

"Alright."

* * *

**(A/N Okay. That chapter was surprisingly easy. Mostly because I got a couple of great reviews! So happy! Anyways, the more reviews I get, the faster I write! So please review!!)**


	7. Chapter 7

"So you want the ability to turn things into glass?" Claire asked skeptically. "Why?"

"A couple of reasons. One, it might come in handy. Two, I doubt the girl even knows how to use it properly."

"So you aren't even going to give her a chance?"

"It's probably better if the girl doesn't get a chance. For all you know, she could turn out like me. Power-crazy." He looked at her over his menu and added, "I not very hungry right now. You order whatever you want, we aren't on a budget here."

Claire shook her head silently. "No. I don't wanna eat anything. Not if you're going to 'acquire' another power later."

"Claire. You have to eat something. It's been over 24 hours since you last ate."

She opened her mouth to say something only to be cut off by Sylar. "And I don't care if you can't die, it's not healthy. You need to eat something."

Claire closed her mouth and glared fiercely at Sylar. "Not if you're going to kill someone later. I don't care if it isn't healthy. I won't eat until you decide that killing people isn't healthy. For you, or for the person being killed."

"Claire. Would you eat _something_ if I let you eat in the car? Please, I don't want to have to watch you starve yourself."

"Fine," Claire gave in as the waitress arrived, smiling flirtatiously at Sylar.

"Can I take your order?" She directed the question at him, almost completely ignoring Claire.

"Mmm… I don't want anything. Claire, what'll you have?" He asked.

"I'll just take a cheeseburger with fries and a coke."

"Of course," the waitress said, her smile faltering a bit. "Are you sure I can't get you anything?"

"Positive."

"Okay. I'll be back momentarily with your food and drink."

The waitress left, and having gotten what he wanted for now, Sylar directed their conversation to a lighter subject.

"So, how's school going?"

Claire proceeded to tell him all the boring details of her college life before being kidnapped by her biological father. Midway through her story, the waitress arrived with her cheeseburger. She finished her story as she ate and once she was done, Sylar signaled for the waitress.

"Yes?"

"We're ready for the check."

"I have it right here."

She pulled a little black book out of her apron and handed it to him. He then pulled out a $20 and handed it to her. "Keep the change," he added.

They left the diner and immediately, Sylar scanned the area for the Company. As soon as he was positive there were no agents around, he looked for a car to steal. A small blue car was the most inconspicuous there. He headed that direction and found it unlocked. A quick shock of electricity turned the engine.

Claire sat next to him and he pulled out of the diner parking lot. For once, nobody ran out screaming, "That's my car!"

They were in the city where Kayla Steppe lived. Traffic was fairly heavy in that small city way. There were tons of cars on the road, but they managed to move at a consistent, if slow, speed.

For a while, Claire was silent, as was Sylar. He could almost feel his prey, nearby, but not close enough. A side road led him away from midday traffic and into the residential district.

The winding roads turned and split to no end. Sylar smacked his palm on the driving wheel and Claire jumped.

"What?" she asked him irritated.

"These stupid roads. Who the heck designed them? I should find them so I can see how _their _brain works. Why would someone make roads like this?" He trailed off into more rambling under his breath, and from the snatches Claire heard, she was glad she couldn't hear him better.

Moments later, he let out a triumphant, "Aha!" and turned sharply onto a straight road lined with a couple of cars and small cute little cottage-like houses. Sylar pulled up to the third one on the left and stopped, inhaling deeply.

His eyes darkened as he looked at the house, until they were nearly black. That predatory, knowing smirk appeared on his face. Claire knew that look. It was the look he had the many times she had seen him before, when he was attempting to steal her power. Claire also knew that once he had sawed off his newest victims skull, the look would become that of triumph as he got what he wanted.

She didn't want to be there for that.

"Hey, um, Sylar, uh, you said I could, um, stay in the car, remember?"

"Of course, Claire," he said. She thought he meant it to be reassuring, or perhaps it was supposed to sound appalled that she had even thought he had forgotten, but it just sounded sinister, and rang of danger. All her instincts screamed at her to run as fast as she could.

Sylar left the car and with a flick of his fingers, he locked the doors and stalked towards his prey's house, full of confidence.

* * *

Peter glanced out the window again and saw a compact blue car pull in. Quickly, he let the curtain drop hoping Sylar hadn't seen him.

"He's here," Peter announced softly, to make sure Sylar couldn't hear him.

Noah motioned for Kayla to hide. She ducked outside as the door opened smoothly and began to sprint away. Noah hid next to Peter behind the corner and heard Sylar call in a soft voice, "Kayla? Are you here?"

The door closed with a soft thud.

Sylar's shadow was all Peter could see. Noah had his gun out and adrenaline was coursing through the both of them. Peter had a knife in his hand; his job was to stab Sylar, since the only power he had at the moment was Nathan's, and flying wouldn't particularly help with fighting. But he would do what he could.

The shadow moved further into the house. Another step or two and Noah could start shooting.

A little further.

* * *

The sound of a gun went off from inside the house. Claire heard Sylar howl in pain for a moment. She knew it was him, becuase it was only for a moment, and it was more of a angry, loud growl. More gunshots and a loud thud. Something broke.

Claire couldn't stand it any longer; she had to find out what had happened. It was in her nature to be curious. She brought he hand back and punched the glass as hard as she possibly could. It cracked a bit and she hit it again. The glass crumbled outwards. She brought her hand back inside and pulled a few small shards from her hand. Then she began the process of brushing away enough glass for her to crawl through without getting completely sliced up.

Once there was a large enough hole, she squeezed her slim frame through. Windows were not made for climbing through. But they worked when you had to get out of a car.

After a second she was jogging up to the house. A gun was still going off. Another crash. Claire tested the door and found it unlocked. She gently opened it.

The scene in front of her was chaos. Her father was firing as rapidly as he could at Sylar, whose blood was spattered on the walls where he had gotten hit. Peter was standing up from where Sylar had flung him into an end table where it looked like a lamp had been before he slammed into it. He lunged forward again, trying to just touch Sylar, and Claire winced when he was flung into the wall by a flick of Sylar's fingers.

She shoved the door open the rest of the way, ready to scream at them all to stop, and managed to get a couple of steps inside. Nobody heard the door open or close above all the noise.

As she took a breath to yell at them, Sylar dove out of the way of Noah's bullets. Too late, both of them saw her standing behind him. The breath was knocked out of her as three bullets hit her chest and stomach. She staggered back and collapsed.

Almost immediately, she started to heal and the bullets were pushed out onto the tile floor with a small clink.

She blinked a couple of times to clear her vision. It always went slightly blurry, if not black, when she got hit with a wound that would kill an average person.

Peter and Noah were standing there motionless with a look of pure shock on their faces. Sylar, on the other hand, was rushing to her side.

He took her face in both of his hands, surprisingly gentle, and directed her gaze from her adoptive father and uncle to him.

"Are you okay, Claire?" he asked urgently.

She nodded and said, "Indestructible, remember?"

He chuckled and grinned. "There are other ways to be hurt," he murmured softly as he brushed back a lock of her hair. "You of all people should know that."

"What, you think that getting hit by a few bullets is on the same level as having a murderous psychopath saw open your skull and the probe around your brain while asking you stupid, unanswerable questions because you are still completely and utterly conscious?" she asked. It was meant to be joking, but ended up sounding full of rage.

He jerked back like she had punched him square in the face. "No," he replied sharply, resorting to his old irritating self.

Sylar stood up in one fluid motion and held his hand out for her to take. She ignored it and stood up on her own.

Noah recovered from the shock of seeing his daughter - whom he thought dead - alive in front of him. "Claire, are you okay?" he repeated Sylar's question.

She rolled her eyes pointedly and said, "Yes. Indestructible, doesn't anyone remember that simple fact?"

"Claire, you and I both know that's not what I'm talking about. I mean did Sylar hurt you?"

"No," she replied with a tinge of amusement in her voice.

"Good. Now move, Claire. Go back outside. There's something I need to finish." He glared at Sylar fiercely.

"No," she responded defiantly.

"Yes. Go. Now." He pointed at the door.

"Peter!" she turned her pleading eyes on her uncle.

"Claire, your father's right. You need to leave so we can finish this."

"No!" she protested. As a last resort, she turned to Sylar. "Please, Sylar? Don't make me leave!"

He looked at her calmly. Ever so slightly, he tipped his head and raised one eyebrow.

"Claire…" he said quietly, moving closer to her.

Noah and Peter both took a half step forward at the same time; Noah raised his gun up an inch or two.

Claire slumped over slightly in defeat, and stared at the floor. Sylar gently moved his hand under her chin and lifted her face up to look at his.

He lowered his voice so only Claire could hear it. "I don't want you to get hurt. Even if you can't actually feel pain, and you heal up after, I don't want to see you get hurt. I'm not sorry for taking your power, but I am sorry for hurting you. That's why I can't let you stay in here. I don't want you involved in this fight."

Sylar leaned forward a bit more, and akwardly and almost hesitantly brushed his lips against hers. Noah snarled and Peter made a noise that sounded as though he was being strangled. Ignoring them, Sylar flicked his fingers, opened the doors and flung her outside. The door slammed shut and locked right after.

Claire began to pound relentlessly on the door.

Sylar turned and saw that Noah had his gun drawn level to his head. Peter leapt forward and managed to touch his hand before being hurled against the wall, and pinned there. With an easy movement, he swiped the gun out of Noah's hand and pinned him against the wall opposite Peter.

He lazily looked back and forth between the two; then grimaced. "You do not know how much I want to kill you both. However, Claire would be so very angry if I did. Therefore, I am going to let you live. But if you ever, try to kill me again, and I have no choice but to defend myself, I can almost guarantee you that I won't let you live."

"You stay away from my daughter," Noah growled.

"I do suppose you're right. I can't stop being who I am, and who I am cannot be good for our little Claire-bear."

"She's in no way yours!" Claire's overprotective father barked.

"Either way, I hate to admit it, but you are right. Don't worry, Noah. You guys won't be hearing from me unless one of you initiates contact."

The back door opened with a flick of his left hand, and he backed out slowly. He looked between them one more time, and left, running quickly across the lawn and leaping easily over the fence. Once he was out of sight, Noah and Peter dropped to the ground.

Immediately, they darted for the front door. Peter was there first and wrenched it open. Claire was sitting sullenly on the sidewalk in front of the house. He ran up beside her and kneeled next to her. "Are you okay?" he asked her, unable to hide the worry in his voice.

"Yeah, fine," she answered, right before her father wrapped her up in a hug. Briefly, she hugged him back, and then began to protest when he wouldn't let go.

"Where's Sylar?" Claire asked.

"He's gone, sweetie. It's okay he's gone."

"Okay. Can we not go back to New York? I don't want to see Nathan just yet." She scowled.

"Of course, Claire-bear," Noah responded.

Peter laughed lightly. "I agree. I don't think any of us want to see Nathan."

* * *

**(A/N Alright peoples. That is not the end, no matter how much it sounds like it. There are still a few chapters left in me. Please review; let me know what you think!! I really appreciate it! Any input, what you thought was funny… what you didn't like… what you think I should fix… I'm open to anything!)**


	8. Chapter 8

It had been three months since she last saw Sylar. Three months since he had broken her out of that prison cell where Danko had tortured her to try and get information. Three months since he had kidnapped her. Three months since he had kissed her. Since he had made her head spin with just a mere touch of his lips.

Three months since he had let her go, no, made her go.

She knew that not too long ago, before that, she would have considered the possibility she may never see Sylar again like having died and gone to heaven. But now it was torturous. She wished she could see him, if only for a moment. She longed to hear his voice. She craved his touch. And if she had the choice to leave her family behind and go with him… she'd go without hesitation.

Of course, nobody knew this. Nobody knew what she was thinking. Nobody could know. If they ever found out, her life would be turned upside down. They would call her crazy; they would turn her over to the scientists to determine what had gone wrong with her ability. To find out if being immortal and invincible also caused insanity. She knew that wasn't it though. He was the only one who would be there for her after everyone else died…. And she didn't know if she would ever see him again. Before everyone she knew and was close to died, at least. Oh, he would be back after they all died, even they knew that. But she didn't want to wait that long. She wanted to see him again. And soon.

* * *

Sylar hated this. He finally did what he had wanted to the whole time they were together, after he broke her out of that prison, he finally kissed her, in front of her dad and uncle no less and he had let her go. He hadn't wanted to let her go, but he had said the truth. He didn't want to see her hurt. But that look in her eyes, when he had kissed her, she had been disgusted. And then he had promised her dad he would leave her alone, never talk to her again. Never make contact.

And he never broke his promises.

So now he had nothing better to do but fix timepieces. It may be in his nature to kill, but she hated it. Claire hated him because he killed. And now he didn't think he could ever kill again; he had tried once and had only seen her face. Hating him, disgusted at what he was. Tears falling down her beautiful face while she watched him work.

A flash of blond hair caught his attention from the corner of his eye. He immediately glanced up wondering how Claire had found him. But it wasn't her, just another teenage girl with blond hair. Claire was much more petite.

But still, it got him thinking about her. About the scent of her hair intoxicating his mind whenever they were close, the way her eyes flashed dangerously at him when she was angry. Like after he had kissed her. And he knew if he made contact, he would be breaking his word, and that was _not_ something Sylar did. He _always _kept his word, no matter how hard it was for him.

He reclined back into his chair, staring at a spot on the ceiling, thinking about her. Something warm and wet rolled down his cheek and he realized he was beginning to cry. The last time he had cried, he had just murdered Brian Davis for telekinesis. Then he got over it and became Sylar, the serial-killer all those with powers learned to fear.

Now he was crying because he couldn't speak to a girl. The last time he had cried for _that_ particular reason, he had been in high school, and had had a huge crush on Vanessa Parker. He remembered how pathetic he had been.

_Gabriel Gray looked at the popular girl furtively from behind his textbook. Her long brown hair was curled perfectly and she applied makeup while looking at a small hand mirror instead of studying for the math test they had next class. She glanced around as though getting the feeling someone was watching her. Her eyes met his and he quickly looked back down at his math book, pretending to study. Gabriel heard the snickers from her friends and looked up to see her whispering to them. They murmured back and she shook her head fervently. The one with the blond hair seemed to say whatever it was again, and laughed. Vanessa sighed and got up. She headed towards his table._

_She gently touched his shoulder and he pretended to have been surprised out of an intense moment of studying. "Hi Gabriel," she said softly, and flipped her hair over her shoulder._

_She knew his name. Vanessa Parker knew his name. He felt like shouting in joy, but he didn't. In fact, he couldn't speak at all. Gabriel tried again, and managed to stutter "V-vanessa, hi."_

_Her friends a couple of tables over laughed as he turned bright red. Even she seemed amused. "Can you help me with the math? I don't understand chapter eight," she said._

"_Oh, s-sure."_

_Vanessa pulled a chair up next to him, much closer than she probably needed to. She looked at his textbook and pointed to an equation. "I don't understand how to do that one."_

_Gabriel tried to tell her, but it was hard to speak with her so close. He could smell the scent of her shampoo, blended perfectly with her perfume. Her flawless skin, beautiful eyes, and perfect lips. He looked back at the textbook and then back at her._

"_Excuse me, are you going to help me?" she asked, sounding slightly impatient now. Then she noticed him looking at her and her eyes opened wider. "Are you just going to sit there and stare at me? You're so creepy!" With that she got up and flounced back to her friends. Gabriel felt the hot tears gather in his eyes and quickly shut his math book and left. Throughout math class, he refrained from looking at her at all, and as soon as he was finished, he went home. Once in his room, he couldn't help from letting the warm, salty tears spill out from his eyes, and he curled up on his bed and cried. _

Yes, Gabriel had been pathetic. But he was Sylar now, and Gabriel was gone. Gone was the boy who could barely speak to girls, in his place, a man who could not only speak to them, but speak to the most beautiful girl he had ever seen. Claire. Much more so than Vanessa Parker. Vanessa Parker had been fake, and mean. Claire was full of fire and independence. She didn't do something she didn't want to, not without a fight at least, and he knew now more than ever that he loved her, and would like nothing more than to spend forever with her.

Knowing he couldn't contact her now, not unless someone from the Bennett family contacted him first, it felt like a hole was being torn into his chest. Whoever said he couldn't love had been wrong. As was anyone who said love was easy. When you couldn't be with the one you loved, that was hard. In fact, it hurt.

* * *

Things were better with Nathan now. In fact, Claire was going to go out to lunch with him. They did it once a week. Claire still felt awkward when she was around him, but it was better. They had only really started reconnecting about a month ago, when he had come to her house practically begging for her forgiveness. He was ambitious, and thought this could better his career. But then Danko had found out about him flying, and everything had been torn apart. His position within the agency had been terminated, and now his picture was up on the wall with the rest of them.

The doorbell chimed, and Claire finished touching up her makeup as her mother answered the door. As she came down the stairs, she heard them talking. Sandra's voice had a hint of a southern drawl in it; something most people didn't know meant she was stressed out. The thicker the accent, the more stressed out or nervous she was. And whenever Nathan came to pick up Claire, Sandra had an accent. She was still uneasy around Nathan, thinking if he had betrayed them once, he would do it again in a heartbeat. And Claire was suspicious too, but she never let anyone know. She pretended everything was perfect, and acted happy and peppy. So far, it didn't seem like anyone had noticed how she felt more depressed as time moved on, as it became longer since she had last seen Sylar.

"Hi Nathan!" she exclaimed, smiling. "It's good to see you!"

"Good to see you too, Claire," he laughed. "Though it's only been a week. It's not like you haven't seen me for months."

"True. But I enjoy your weekly visits."

"That's good. You know, after what happened with the company… I wasn't sure if you would be able to forgive me."

Claire felt her body go tense and knots form in her neck. She hadn't quite completely forgiven Nathan yet. He had allowed her to be tortured at the hands of Danko, and she blamed him for it. He was supposed to protect her. Not the serial killer whom she had feared since homecoming.

"Yeah. No need to worry about that," she smiled for effect.

"Well, if yall are goin' out, you ought to leave soon!" Sandra exclaimed. "Else you aren't going to have enough time to eat and talk!"

"Right you are, Sandra!" Nathan agreed, smiling in what Claire assumed was supposed to be charming.

They walked out to his car, a nice little black 4 door sedan. He opened the passenger door for her and she climbed in the seat. The door shut behind her, sealing her in the small space with a thud. She resisted the instinct to panic as he got in the driver's seat next to her.

The elder Petrelli brother pulled the car key out of his pocket; a single silver key attached to a ring with a keychain reading "#1 Brother!" obviously from Peter. Peter, the innocent younger brother who had seemingly forgiven his older brother. But while Peter may have fooled everyone else, Claire knew better. Claire could see it when he looked at Nathan, she could see the darkness in his eyes, the tension in his face. He hated his brother for what he had done to her, and was no closer to forgiving him than she was. They pretended around the family, and things were better, but they probably would never be able to fully forgive him.

"So, Claire, where do you want to go for lunch?" Nathan asked, looking at her.

"I don't know.. anywhere's fine."

"Alright, well, I'm pressed for time… so how about we just go to that little burger place I saw back down the main road on my way here?"

Claire sighed gently, so as not to let Nathan hear her. He never had enough time, how he ever expected to get back into the good graces of his family was beyond her.

"Yeah, that's sounds good."

They drove in complete silence, but it wasn't the comfortable silence she had enjoyed with Sylar. Even though she hadn't thought it comfortable then, she realized that not talking with Sylar seemed normal, while not talking with Nathan was just awkward. Neither of them had anything to say, and she didn't know about him, but she was not enjoying his presence.

Claire stared out the window, watching building after building fly by in a blur. The car slowed and Nathan flipped on his blinker, signaling to the cars behind him that he was going to turn right, into the parking lot of a small building that looked as though it might serve burgers. After all, there was a picture of a burger on the sign… Claire thought that's what it was anyway. The paint was chipping away, and the name had been reduced to a few lines and splotches of pink paint.

Once inside, the tables were dusty, and the wall paint was in the same condition as the sign. Clearly, nobody had bothered to clean up the place in a while. It didn't look like anybody had even _been_ there in a while.

"Um, I don't think we're going to be able to get food here," Claire said, trying to make a joke to cover up her nervousness.

"I know. I brought you here because this is the very same place I met your mother," he replied seriously. "And it's the perfect place to talk without anybody hearing."

"What do we need to talk about?" she asked warily.

"Sylar," He replied simply.

"Sylar is gone. He won't be coming back for me. He promised, and he has never before broken his word."

"Are you sure? I just want to keep you safe, Claire."

The irony of that struck her. _He _wanted to keep _her _safe? This was the same man who had turned her over to Danko to be experimented on; or tortured. Whichever made him feel better. And she snapped. She was done keeping up this little masquerade that everything was fine and dandy, that she had gotten over the betrayal and pain. That she had forgiven him. And she told him.

"Wait, you want to keep me safe. You, who tricked me and gave me to Danko to be experimented on. To be tortured. I'm through pretending for you, I'm through pretending for anyone. There is nothing holding me here. You are a traitor, I hate you." Her voice rose in volume with every word she said. "You lied to me and betrayed your own family, your own kind. Anyone with powers, besides you, was locked up. How does that seem fair? I trusted you, which was obviously a mistake. There is nothing to talk about anymore. But, if you really want to talk about Sylar, let's talk. How about I tell you that while you and Noah and plenty of other people have lied to me, I know Sylar is the one person who won't. Ever. You aren't reliable. He is. He's predictable. I know I can trust him, maybe not to do what's right, but to do what I think he will. And I know he can protect me, while I also know, you can't. You don't have any power to protect me anymore, he does."

And saying that, she whipped around and stalked out of what was left of the run-down little diner, leaving Nathan there stunned, unable to speak. All he could think about was that she had just defended Sylar and then left. Why? What had happened while they were together, alone? Did it matter?

* * *

Claire stalked outside and walked, avoiding people naturally as she walked down the street. She stopped at a bus station and got on the first bus that arrived, less than a minutes wait. She had been lucky. All she wanted to do was get as far away from Nathan as possible.

The bus took her downtown, towards some of the more neglected shops. She absentmindedly stared out the window at the shabby stores and offices. There was even a doctor's office, but she knew that she sure wouldn't go there for medical treatment. Not that she would ever need it.

Then she noticed a watch-repair shop. The sign advertised it as being "Gray's Watch Repair" and there was a piece of white cardboard in the window that read "OPEN" in neat handwriting. Gray… could it be? Claire remembered her adoptive father saying that Sylar's real name was Gabriel Gray. At the next bus stop, she got off and practically ran back to the repair shop, eager to see if it was where Sylar could be passing his time. If it wasn't the same person, she could just say she had an old watch that didn't work and was checking out repair prices.

She opened the door slowly, and winced when a bell rang, announcing her presence. But there wasn't anybody in the shop. "Hello?" she called out. "Is anybody here?"

* * *

Sylar was in the back room when he heard the bell ring, declaring the fact that someone had actually entered the shop. But he knew that they would soon leave. So he didn't bother going out there to see who it was. Until he heard a soft, feminine voice call out "Hello? Is anybody here?"

It sounded like his Claire. He quickly opened the door into the main shop and saw a petite young woman looking at his timepieces. She reached out to touch one and he said "Please don't touch that."

She jumped, and turned around angrily. When she saw him, her eyes opened wider and her lips parted. She whispered "Sylar."

It was her. She had come and found him. "Claire!" he said surprised.

He was even more surprised when she stepped forward and hugged him. "I've missed you," she said softly, as though afraid.

Sylar replied truthfully, "Me too."

"C-can I stay with you?" she asked timidly.

Sylar was shocked. Years ago, Vanessa Parker's friends had had to dare her to come over and talk to him. Now, a gorgeous young woman whom he loved was asking to stay with him.

"Why?"

"I… just yelled at Nathan. Told him I hated him. Which I do. He betrayed me. And I don't want to go home because I know he'll tell Noah or Sandra and I'll be in trouble… please?"

"Of course. Anything for you."

* * *

**(A/N And that's it. Ending. Hope you liked it. I feel awful for the super long wait, but… I dunno. This always happens. Maybe I should just write one-shots from now on. If I write anything. The only reason I finished this is cuz my boyfriend went off to freakin Europe (mainly Scotland I do believe) with his choir, so I got really bored. And will be until July 12****th****. But I'll survive. I love all of you who stuck with me, thank you, thank you. Especially Bethany Simpleton, who never ever gave up on me. =) And that is the end of this story. I WOULD however, like to note, that I am VERY EXTREMELY MAD at NBC for not renewing Heroes another season! GRRRRRR.)**


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